Pain
by kookykey
Summary: Pain is a part of life, but you can learn to live with it. he has to build somenthing out of what he has left. Complete
1. pain

Pain.

It's a part life, inevitable, unavoidable, no matter how great someone's life is everybody feels it.

Whether it's the pain of grazed knees or a broken heart. The pain of losing someone you love, or more tragic, the pain of never having them in the first place.

Some people even say pain is necessary, that it helps us grow, helps us to appreciate its absence that little bit more.

He's never been one to admit when he's in pain, physical or otherwise, but he much prefers the physical because that's controllable. Take a couple of pills, sleep it off, easy right. Simple.

Emotional pain is much trickier, because to heal it, first you have to admit to it, and that's always been a problem for him.

People don't need to know about his shitty childhood, or the scars he still carries from it.

They don't need to know about the crushing loneliness, that creeps up on him when he isn't looking.

They don't need to hear about his utter longing to belong somewhere, to be needed and valued and dare he say it... to be loved.

They don't need to know, so he doesn't tell them. He keeps it all bottled up the way he always has, and sometimes he can fool himself into believing that that's okay.

Sometimes he can't.

Sometimes he wants to scream at them, to let loose of all the things he's kept guarded for so long. Because why shouldn't they know? Why should he suffer in silence? Why shouldn't he display how damaged he is for the entire world to see?

He can answer his own questions. He knows why.

It's because he's scared, not that he would admit that to anyone but himself, but he is. Terrified, actually.

Terrified that they won't care anyway, that they'll just leave him too it.

Terrified that they'll see the broken parts of him and turn away.

Terrified that they won't accept the man, that's been lurking behind the bravado.

His thoughts confuse him, because he wants so desperately for someone to really look at him, for someone to see the pain he's been hiding for so long, but at the same time, he's scared to death that they will and that they'll pity the poor boy that was never really loved, not when it counted, Not when it mattered. Definitely not, when it might have made a difference.

So he carries on covering it up, smiling when their words sting, laughing when he feels tears creeping up on him, talking about nothing to fill the silences before he can remember just how alone he is.

That's the worst type of pain he thinks.

The pain of being alone among friends.

The pain of being a stranger to the people he sees every day.

The pain of putting on a show, the world so easily believes.

The pain, of not being able to look in the mirror, for fear of the hollow eyes that will stare back out.

The pain of knowing that it's always going to be this way, that he can't change it, even if he wants to and he so desperately wants to.

Like he said, everyone feels pain, some worse than others, some physical, some not. Some share it with the world and some hide it.

He's no different, so he'll wake up tomorrow, push it all away, smile and pretend that nothing can touch him. He'll continue to pretend he's as strong as he's made them believe.

The show must go on.


	2. shatter

It's starting to show.

Tiny little cracks in his armour are starting to appear, and he's struggling to keep up appearances.

He's not sure why he still wants to try.

He needs help now, help before he slips over the edge, help before the cracks begin to get bigger and all that is left to do is shatter into tiny pieces.

He doesn't want to shatter, doesn't want to be anymore broken than he already is, doesn't want to be broken beyond repair.

He needs them to see the truth now, needs them to realise he's drowning and grab his hand before all hope is lost. Before, he is lost.

But something's still holding him back, he's still lying, still pretending that all is right with his world, when it's so inescapably wrong.

He guesses it's hard to break the habit of a lifetime.

That doesn't mean he won't try though.

He does it in small ways, doesn't talk as much, no more jokes or pranks, he hasn't quoted movies in weeks and they haven't said a word. He's a shell of who he used to be and the people he needs so desperately to help him, haven't even realised anything's wrong.

That's not entirely true though, he can easily read the confusion on their faces, when his smile doesn't quite reach his eyes anymore. Honestly, he's not sure it ever did.

He doesn't need their confusion, can't do anything with that. He needs them to ask questions, to push him, to back him into a corner until he spills all his secrets.

He needs them to understand, or at least try to.

He needs them to tell him it is all going to be ok, he doesn't care if that's a lie.

He needs them to see the pain he's carried around for a lifetime.

He needs them to fix him, because he's starting to think he's already shattered and there's not a single thing he can do about it.

The balls in their court now.

He doesn't want to think what might happen, if they don't want to play.


	3. wrong

Something is wrong, has been for a while now.

He's too quiet, and a quiet DiNozzo has never sat quite right with him.

He doesn't make jokes, he doesn't tease his co-workers, he hardly even smiles anymore and when he does it's so undeniably fake he thinks his heart might break at the sight of it.

Tony should never look so lost. So sad.

They have all noticed, but he told them to back off, leave it to him, he told them he'd fix it, whatever _it_ is. Truth is he has no idea where to start.

He always prided himself on being able to see past the persona he projects to the world, always thought he understood the man, understood what makes him tick. Thought he could hear the words Tony never said.

Now he's at a loss, because he might be able to see the look of pain haunting his senior agents eyes, but he has no idea what put it there.

Part of him thinks it has always been there, that he just used to hide it away, but now it's become too hard to be something he's not. That hurts, because the thing he's not, is happy, and how the hell has it taken him so long to notice. How did DiNozzos smoke and mirrors blind him?

He's no fool, he's always known his agent had issues, but then again doesn't everyone?

He's knows his childhood wasn't picture perfect, far from it in fact, he knows he's been faced with too many tragedies for one man to bear, he knows that it had to take its toll, but he never imagined things would get this bad.

He's fading away, he's a shell of the man that was once so full of life, and now he can't help but wonder how much of it was real, if any of it was.

He wants to help, but a few gruff words and a slap to the back of the head aren't going to cut it this time, he wonders if anything he does at this point can even make a difference. Where do you start in trying to heal, what he's starting to suspect is a lifetime of hurt.

He's watching him closely now and he doesn't like what he sees. He looks so damn lonely, so damn broken, and he's looking to them, to him, for help.

His eyes are screaming now, a soundless cry of agony and it won't be long until the pain consumes him, it won't be long until he loses the battle he's been fighting his entire life. The one he's been Fighting in silence, fighting alone.

He almost can't look anymore, because he's a broken man and he played a part in that, but he forces his eyes to lock with his agents, because he owes the man that he let get swallowed up in his own private hell. He owes him because he never took the time to notice the agony engulfing him.

Now he needs to step up and show him that he's not fighting alone anymore.

He needs to step up and fix him.

He thinks it might be too late.

He hopes he's wrong.


	4. Ziva

She does not bother to hide the tears streaming down her face, makes no effort to wipe them away, as she thinks about what has become of the man she once called her hero.

She cannot help but think of the hundred different ways he has been there for her, for all of them, she wonders if they ever returned the favour, if they ever helped him after a rough case, a bad day. Did they ever show up at his apartment with a pizza and a promise to be there if he needed it?

She knows the answer to that and it only brings more tears to her eyes, because at the times when he might have needed a friend they were not there. They were never there.

They were a team, which means they should look out for each other, take care of one another, a role that Tony has always so readily accepted. He kept up his end of that unspoken agreement, but they did not, they failed. Tony is paying the price for that now.

How could she have been so ignorant?

How could she have let him down, when all he has done is protect her?

Maybe that was the problem. That he was so good at protecting everybody else, they all forgot he could never quite protect himself.

Is that their fault though? Could he not have come to them? Could he not have simply asked them for help? Was that really so hard?

Maybe he would have, if they ever gave him any inclination that they would care.

She cannot blame Tony, the blame lies firmly on their shoulders, because she cannot count the times they may have helped him through a lonely night, but she can count the times they laughed at him, insulted him, and made him feel excluded, as if they did not want him there.

The tears are falling faster now, because her actions have helped reduce a man, who was once so strong, to a broken shell.

She never imagined Tony could fall so far.

She thought he was resilient, invincible. That was her biggest mistake.

She honestly thought she knew him, now she knows better.

She does not know him at all, perhaps now she never will.


	5. options

It is a dull day. Dull to match his mood, his thoughts, he doesn't care today.

Today, he's giving up. He is not holding out for these people another minute longer, he's going to sit at his desk and stare into space until he can summon enough strength to get up, walk away, and not look back.

He's sitting watching people bustle around him, everyone moving so rapidly it makes him feel even more tired, he feels so detached, like he's watching them through a hazy cloud of fog.

"Tony" A voice breaks through, but he can barley summon the energy to lift his head, never mind reply.

"Tony" much more insistent now, with a touch of worry.

Wonderful.

"Are you alright"

Oh now he really wants to scream, because how typical that after months of him travelling headfirst into a downward spiral, with no one noticing or maybe just not caring, the day he finally decides to get the hell out of here, they go and ask if he's fucking alright.

Well no he's not, hasn't been in a long, long time. That's not his answer though, he's sure as hell not going to make this easy on them. Not now.

"Why wouldn't I be" He just about manages to lock eyes with McGee and amuses himself for a moment watching the probie stutter as he tries to think of an appropriate response.

"erm..Well it's just that...I mean lately" He manages to stutter.

He cuts in, this feels like torture.

"Lately you've developed even more of a speech impediment, really is no fucking hope for you is there McGoo" He's being unnecessarily cruel and he knows it.

"I just thought you might want to talk Tony" he sounded so compassionate, looked so hopeful. To little to late Timmy.

He's angry now, he can feel the rage burning through him because it's way too late for that, they had their chance, hell they had their second, third and fourth and they ignored all of them. They ignored him, they ignored his pain.

"Well no probie i don't want to talk, I want to be left alone" Oh that sounded nasty. What are you playing at DiNozzo.

McGee looks like a kicked puppy, standing there in front of his desk, wide eyed with concern and he feels a tinge of remorse, until he remembers he's going with anger at the moment. So he stalks off and leaves him standing there, serves him right.

The anger disappears as quickly as it came as he sinks his weary body to the floor. Isn't that what he wanted? For them to ask, to care, to offer him support, he thought he did, he was desperate for it, wasn't he?. Then why when he finally got it, did he throw it back in probies face, he really is one messed up man.

His thoughts aren't dull anymore, there rushing by at a million miles an hour, and he might not be angry anymore, but he can taste the bitterness that comes as the first tear falls down his face

Something has to give.

He can't live this way. Not anymore.

He can see his way out clearly now.

There's no hope left, nothing to cling too.

He never wanted it to come to this.

He only has one option left.

**A/N. This is my first attempt at writing dialogue, let me know what you think, I'm sorry if it's not great.**

**Thanks for the fantastic response to this story**

**.x.x.x.**


	6. mess

He's still standing there long after Tony left, still staring after the man he can't help but feel they abandoned.

He knows they were meant to wait for Gibbs to talk to him, but when he came in and saw him sitting there, so obviously lost in his thoughts, looking so lost, he couldn't not ask him if he was okay.

He'd never seen tony like that before, so oblivious to his surroundings, so closed off from everyone. He used to be such a demanding presence.

He can finally see just how far he's fallen.

He wasn't quite expecting to be met with that display of anger, then again he wasn't quite sure what he was expecting.

Certainly not a sappy hallmark moment, because this is not a movie, and he doesn't think they will be getting a happy ending.

"Tim" A soft hand on his arm shocks him out of his thoughts.

"Hey Ziva" he is still standing there, he can't seem to move.

"Tim are you alright"

"Not me you should be worried about"

He's not the one that's angry or upset, he's not the one alone and hurting. He hasn't been let down by the people he thinks of as family.

"This is about Tony yes" Of course it's about Tony, that's all they've talked about for weeks, and that's part of the problem isn't it, they did too much talking and not a lot of anything else.

"I don't think he's Tony anymore, he's not the man I met all those years ago" He was different then, he was happy. Wasn't he? Or maybe it was all a carefully constructed mask. Maybe he has always been this sad. He hopes not. He couldn't handle that. He can barley handle this.

"We all change over time McGee"

He guesses that's true enough, events occur, circumstances change and so do people. He doesn't like new Tony, mostly because he doesn't think he's new, he thinks they were just to blind to notice. They accepted the surface so easily, they never bothered to look further, it never crossed their minds that he might not be exactly what he appears to be.

He doesn't blame Tony for walking out on him, after all it was usually the other way round.

They usually walked out on him.

He's sitting at his desk by the time Gibbs walks in, he watches as he warily eyes DiNozzos empty desk.

An hour he's been gone, he could be anywhere, he didn't even try to find him, he didn't want to make it worse. If that was even possible at this point.

...

Something has happened. His gut is painful. He's not here, all he can see is an empty desk and a rather sheepish looking McGee.

"Gibbs, Tony has gone"

"Well yeah I can see that Ziva" Did he not tell them to leave it to him, and okay so maybe he hasn't quite worked out how to talk to him yet but it takes planning to approach Tony about things this personal. One wrong word and all you'll see his back as he runs through the nearest exit. As they have undoubtedly just learnt.

"You look for him?"

"We thought it might be best to leave him, he does not trust us"

Of course he doesn't, why the hell would he.

"He never will if we give up now"

They look defeated, but this is not about them, they can feel guilty later.

Right now they have to find Tony and attempt to fix this mess, and how sad is it that this mess, is his agents life.

Hopefully it's fixable, hopefully there's still time.

Hopefully there's still something, still someone left to save.


	7. Memory

_He is standing in his father's office, trying his best to keep his tears from falling. His father does not like it when he cries._

_He smells him before he hears him, the stench of alcohol momentarily over-powering as he staggers into the room. He can feel his heart begin to hammer painfully in his chest, there is no way this going to end well for him. It never does._

_He watches as his father slumps into his chair, he looks defeated._

"_Do you understand what happened today Anthony" His voice his so weary, he's never heard his father sound that way before._

"_Yes sir" Oh he understands, he understands that his life has just drastically changed. He understands that he has been left alone, at the mercy of a monster._

"_Well what happened boy" Angry now, vicious, that sounds like his father._

"_My M...M..." The words are stuck in his throat as he wonders how to say aloud, the thing he's been denying all day. _

"_DO NOT STUTTER BOY, SPEAK LIKE A MAN" The shout echoes around the room, as his father pours yet more liquor into his glass._

_He wants to say that he's not a man. That he's only eight years old, but he's long since learnt his father does not appreciate things like that._

_He stands up straighter, he may not be a man, but he can pretend, just for now._

"_My mother died sir" He is shocked at how steady his voice sounds._

_He barley flinches as his father's glass shatters against the wall behind him, he's just thankful it didn't hit him this time._

"_Do you know why she died Anthony" He is unnerved by the calmness of his father's tone, and he can't help but think of the saying, the calm before the storm._

"_She was sick sir" It comes out as more of a question than a statement, because no one told him anything in this house, but she hadn't left her room in days, so she must have been, right?_

"_Yes she was" Weary again, he doesn't like this, as scared as he his of his father's anger, at least he knows what's coming, what to expect. This is new territory, dangerous and his body is filled with dread._

"_She was sick of you" He is stunned at the words that are said in such a matter of fact tone, which leaves no room for argument._

"_I...I don't understand" He really doesn't, he didn't make her sick did he? He is worried now, what if it's his fault, he feels tears stinging his eyes again and it takes everything in him to keep them at bay._

"_She's dead because you exist boy, because you're annoying and worthless and she couldn't bear to look at you one more time, so do you know what she did today Anthony, she sliced her wrists open. You understand that don't you?"_

_His breath is coming in short gasps, his lungs burning, the world spins around him as he tries to comprehend what he just heard. He can't think anything other than the fact that his mother, did this to herself, she chose to die. She chose to leave him. He didn't think this could get any worse._

"_But she loved me, she told me that" He remembers it clearly, sitting at her piano her arm wrapped around him as she breathed the words into his ear._

"_Don't always believe what you are told boy" But he wants too, he wants to believe his mother loved him, he doesn't think he'll have anything left if he lets go of that._

"_She never loved you, her life ended the day you were born, she did not love you Anthony, Nobody ever will" He can't stop the tears now, their falling fast, soaking his cheeks, his father growls when he hears his choked back sob. He knows what's coming now._

_The first blow knocks him off his feet, but he doesn't feel the rest. He switches off, he can barely hear the slurred insults, he's heard them all before anyway. All he can think of is his mother, so beautiful and shy, the air of sadness that seemed to surround her, and he was always in awe of her._

_Eventually the hits stop coming and his father retreats back to his bottle, and he takes his chance and leaves as quickly as his legs will carry him._

_The pain makes itself known as he sits down on his bed, he hurts all over, but he is glad of this, it's a welcome distraction from everything else._

_He's crying now, sobbing really, deep painful heart wrenching sobs tearing through him._

_He didn't feel his arm break, or hear his ribs crack but when the sobs finally subside he swears he can feel his heart shatter._

...

He's been thinking about that day a lot lately, the day his mother committed suicide and in a way he was right all those years ago because she was sick. Just not physically. He wonders if these things run in the family. He inherited her green eyes, did he inherit her fractured mind aswell?

He realised many things that day.

He realised he was now completely alone.

He realised that physical pain helped distract from emotional torment.

He realised that nothing would ever be okay again.

He realised that if his own mother could not love him, then nobody ever will.


	8. Lost

He has disappeared. He's looked everywhere and he cannot find him, his apartment was empty, his car was still at the office, he wasn't propping up any bars and now he's reached his last destination, if Tony is not here then he's ran out of places to look.

He cautiously walks down the steps leading to his basement and fights the childish urge to cross his fingers.

Tony's come here in the past, he's sat on the steps and watched him work on the boat, sometimes in silence, sometimes talking about anything and everything. Maybe he should have done more those nights, encouraged him to open up. He should have made sure he knew he wouldn't be judged or belittled for having feelings, he should have told him that he had his six outside the office as well.

He thought Tony knew all that, assumed he knew how he felt about him, but wasn't that one of his own rules, never assume, always double check?

He should have checked.

He should have told Tony that he loved him. It would have made a difference.

He reaches the bottom and he has no words to describe the hopelessness in his gut as he scans the empty basement. He thought he would be here, but he's not.

He's sitting on the bottom step, contemplating his next move when he notices the item sitting on his work bench.

His breath catches in his throat, as he realises that DiNozzo was here, but not to seek comfort.

His hands clench into fists as he stares at the solitary item lying there. Then the fear sets in as he begins to realise the implications of what he can and can't see. A wave of terror rushes through him and sheer panic settles itself painfully in his gut, because sitting there is Tony's badge, no gun.

_Fuck._

...

He doesn't like the look on his bosses face, he's seen the man wear many expressions over the years, but never this one.

Fear.

If whatever he found has managed to put fear in him, he guesses he's going to be wetting his pants any second now.

"Did you find him Gibbs" He almost wants to answer Ziva's question himself, he can already hear the response on his bosses lips, something along the lines of, you think I'd be here if I had.

The actual response surprises him and he's not sure what it means.

"Found his badge"

He watches the colour drain from her face as she reaches out a hand as if to steady herself, even though she's sitting at her desk.

"You mean he quit boss?" he hears Ziva's sigh and feels his confusion grow as Gibbs' expression turns to one of disbelief.

"He found _his badge Tim"_ He hears the emphasis she puts on the last three words and tries to understand.

"yeah i got that. He left his badge so that means..." He stops suddenly as it hits him, if he were quitting he would have left his badge and_ his gun._ He curses his naivety for not coming to this realisation straight away.

His heart is pounding, his world is tilting off course as the conclusion they have all reached sinks in.

It took him a while, maybe it took him too long, but eventually he realised that all the teasing Tony did was never out of malice, that he would always have his back, whether he asked for it or not. He didn't have Tony's back when he should have and now he's lost, god knows where with only a gun for company.

_Fuck._

...

McGee begins to shake and she knows he now understands the drastic situation they have found themselves in.

If Tony pulls the trigger, she will never forgive herself. The team would cease to exist, consumed by guilt they would begin to pull away from each other. She does not want that. This place feels like home.

She gives herself a mental shake as she remembers her feelings are unimportant right now.

Gibbs has his head in his hands, ignoring everything but his own thoughts, the guilt radiates from him and it is a parallel to her own.

How could they have let it get to this point?

How could they have allowed him to get so desperate?

How will they find him? His phone was found crushed in the stairwell, but they will find him. She knows that.

She just hopes that they will find _him._ Not his corpse.

Time is crucial now, one minute too slow and it will be too late, one minute behind and they will find themselves faced with the worst possible scenario.

_Fuck._


	9. Worthless

It will be over soon, as soon as he gathers the strength he needs, the strength he can't seem to find. He doesn't want this life anymore, he doesn't want his memories, he doesn't want his thoughts or his feelings, he doesn't want to be a broken man with a shattered heart and a hollow soul. He wants to die.

Then why is he still sitting here?

Why is he still waiting for the cavalry to come?

Why does he still want to hear their last efforts to bring him back from the brink?

He does not want them to save him, but he needs to know they want too, he needs to know he has made an impact on these people. That his life meant something, anything, however little, however insignificant it may have been.

He wants to see the hopelessness shining in their eyes when they realise that their attempts are futile, that he's a lost cause that probably should have done this years ago.

He doesn't think their coming, he's been gone for hours. He curses himself for feeling a little surprised, they were never there when he needed them before, why the hell would they start now?

He spent his whole life hiding who he is, living behind a mask, perfecting a persona to present to the world, so that someone could look at him and see something worthwhile. So that hopefully he could prove his father wrong and get somebody to love him.

It didn't work. He's ended up as alone as he always was.

He feels his own hopelessness consuming him and fierce tremors suddenly work their way through his weary body, it wasn't half as weary as his mind.

Because there is another feeling clawing its way into his heart, he feels like they abandoned him and he wills his memories away, abandonment is something he's acquainted with.

_He is sitting, cross-legged in the middle of his bedroom floor. No, not his bedroom anymore he reminds himself. He scans the empty room with tired eyes and it hits home as he notes that it is now devoid of anything that might suggest a child once lived here._

_He is shaking with suppressed emotion, because he is not going to give that bastard the satisfaction of seeing how much this hurt._

_It shouldn't hurt like this, there shouldn't be a burning ache in his chest, he shouldn't want to slam his hand into a wall just so he could focus on a different type of pain. He knows that that is not a very healthy coping mechanism, but it's one he's perfected. He doesn't move though. He sits there and tries to make sense of why he feels the bitter sting of disappointment._

_He should be happy, relieved, desperate to get away, but it's always these moments that cut deeper, the moments he sees just how little his father cares about, when he proves how much he doesn't love him, when he denies his very existence or leaves him in hotel rooms because he was never thought about, never seen as important. Those moments when his heart breaks all over again, because the casual indifference, hurts more than bruises ever could._

_His Father cannot hurt him in Rhode Island._

_His Father cannot tell him how worthless, he already knows he is, when he is at military school._

_That should be a comfort, he doesn't understand why it's not._

_Maybe it's because he's twelve years old and he is being effectively orphaned, cut off from the only family he has, the man may be a violent drunk but he's still his father. He thought that counted for something. Now he knows it doesn't._

_He is not his father anymore, not that he ever actually wanted to be, he can still clearly hear his voice telling him 'you are not my son, you are a worthless human being, you mean nothing to me' those words accompanied by a military uniform and a plane ticket, he almost hopes for a punch to be thrown in their too. Desperate for a bit of normality._

_He is being thrown out like the trash, his whole body is trembling but he will not cry, he has not allowed himself to show that kind of weakness for a long time. _

_This is the last time he will ever step foot in this house, it is quite possibly the last time he will see or speak to his father. Surely, that deserves more of a reaction from the man,_

_He doubts this will be the last time he feels like this, it will not be the last time he thinks the pain is taking over. The last time he thinks he's broken._

_Because even though, technically he is the one leaving, he knows this will not be the last time he is abandoned._

The tears he suppressed that day are pouring down his face. He doesn't care anymore, he has already accepted the fact he can't be anything other than weak.

He never saw that house again, he never wanted too. There was nothing for him there except the echoes of words that rang loudly in his ears anyway. Nothing but shadows of broken bones, and silver belt buckles, the things he still feels in his dreams.

He realised not long after that day, that just because his father could no longer physically hurt him, did not mean the pain would go away, just because he no longer spoke to the man, did not matter, his words still had tremendous power over him.

Sitting here now, gun in his hand, he feels more worthless than ever.

Time to stop thinking.

Time to stop losing himself in memories.

Time to get this over with.


	10. Searching

No one is speaking and the silence is deafening.

They have exhausted every lead, not that they had many to begin with and it now appears that Gibbs has given up, he didn't think that was possible, because they do not know where he is, they don't have a clue where he could be.

They don't know because they do not know him, they have never known him. They only ever met the mask.

He's racking his brain trying to think of somewhere DiNozzo might go to... He doesn't allow the thought to finish.

Then he remembers.

_He looks up as he hears the elevator and watches Tony stride towards his desk, he looks a little frazzled. Then he sees his legs._

"_Tony, why the hell are you covered in mud?"_

_He looks up startled. "What?"_

"_Your pants DiNozzo, what have been doing this morning?"_

_He moves his gaze from his dirty trousers and looks at him with an unreadable expression on his face._

"_I was at a football field"_

"_You were playing football, in a suit?" his voice is incredulous. Why would someone play football in a suit, this early in the morning? He knows Tony has some quirks but this is just plain madness._

_He lets out a little chuckle as he answers. "I wasn't McGee"_

_He opens his mouth to speak but Tony beats him too it._

"_I was thinking" _

"_You can think?" The sarcasm escapes before he can even process the admission Tony just made._

_There is an odd look in his eyes as he says "oh yeah McGoo, I can think" he continues before he can comment._

"_I can think of all the beautiful touchdowns I made, all the great passes and if I do say so myself, my exceptional skills as an athlete and of course those cute little cheerleading outfits"_

_He rolls his eyes and goes back to his work, typical Tony._

_When Ziva arrives he is still twisting his body trying to get a better look at the mess, she raises an eyebrow but does not comment and he forgets that Tony let his walls down for a moment._

He never knew what Tony was thinking about that day. He feels yet another stab of guilt as he remembers he never asked.

He recalls other details now, things he overlooked at the time.

He can see the dark circles under the other agent's eyes, the paleness of his features and the slight shake in his hands, as he powered up his computer.

"I think I might have an idea where to find him" their heads shoot up at once, Ziva's face a picture of hopefulness. Gibbs is more restrained but he reads it in eyes, he figures it mirrors his own.

So he tells them about the conversation, if that's even what it was.

Ziva just looks at him.

Gibbs speaks. "A football field"

"That's what he said boss"

"There are a lot of football fields in D.C yes" He knows Ziva is right but that doesn't stop his frustration from building, because this is the closest they have been to finding him.

"Then we'll search them all" That sounds more like his boss, determined, focused, he is relieved at the return of the formidable man.

He turns to his computer to find out just how many football fields they are going to have visit. He realises it doesn't matter, he is not going to give up.

He is going to show Tony that he cares about him, and if it doesn't make a difference then at least he tried. Maybe that's all Tony wants from them.

Maybe he needs to believe that he is worth their efforts.

He hopes he gets the chance to show him that he is.

...

Five fields later and still, no DiNozzo. He hates this, almost hates him for putting them through it.

He is proud that Tim remembered his chat with Tony, he's glad he came in covered in mud that day, he has hope again now it is burning through him as he knows the possibility of finding him has risen.

It makes sense now he thinks about it. That Tony would go to a football field.

He knows that football was a kind of haven for Tony as a child, an escape of sorts, from the harsh reality of his life. He would have relished the idea of being part of a team, of being depended on. It would have made him feel like he belonged. A feeling he must like to remember. He was good too, really good, could have gone pro if he never got injured. Not that Tony ever talks about that.

He presses down on the gas a little harder and he wills the car to speed up, he notes that there have been no protests about the speed he is going, or the way they are being thrown around.

Questions begin to bounce around in his mind and he knows his team will be thinking the same things.

Are they already too late?

Have they already lost him?

Can they even stop him from pulling the trigger?

Can they really save him from himself?

**A/N Will anyone kill me if this doesn't have a happy ending?**


	11. Over

_Life is good. He shocks himself with that thought, it certainly isn't one he's ever had before, but he thinks it now._

_He's no idiot, he knows things could go wrong, that they probably will, but right now he's content with the fact that he is actually happy._

_He's not pretending to be like he usually is, he isn't punching walls behind closed doors, he's not healed, he probably never will be completely. He still has nightmares, he still has days when he wants to cry himself stupid over words he wishes he couldn't remember, but does. He still flinches when people get too close, or touch him unexpectedly, he figures that those things will always be there, he's starting to be able to live with that._

_This new change in his mentality is all down to Louise. The most perfect girl in the world. Gorgeous chestnut hair, mesmerising deep grey eyes, he imagines can see straight to his soul. The most important fact about this amazing woman, she loves him._

_It's not just her he supposes, it's a mixture of new and wonderful circumstances._

_He feels at home here in Ohio, he's a celebrated member of the football team, he belongs to a fraternity, his grades are good, he's well liked, mostly because of the team, he has to admit he is damn good._

_Another factor in this strange new world, he has a best friend, for the first time. In the past, he never allowed himself to have friends, not close ones anyway. He didn't want to risk them noticing his scars. Physical and otherwise._

_Ryan doesn't mention things like that, he's a smart guy and after asking him about his family, his childhood and all the normal things you ask to get too know someone, a question had him diving for the nearest bathroom. He never brought it up again. They became fast friends after that, inseparable. Ryan takes care of him, he has his back, wouldn't let him down. It's a nice feeling._

_So yeah, life is good for a change and he's being cautiously optimistic that things will stay this way._

_He's practically skipping to his dorm room, he has a big night ahead of him, he is going to tell Louise he wants to be with her for the rest of his life._

_His heart stops beating, a chill runs down his spine as his brain begins to comprehend the image in front of his eyes._

_Louise and Ryan. Together. In his bed. Oh god._

_They notice his presence and scramble around, once they are covered up the apologises start. He does not want them. They will not help. He can't speak, can't explain in words the emotions tearing him up inside. He knew this was too good to be true. He turns and walks away, he wonders if he can walk forever .if can walk far enough away that the pain will get tired of keeping up._

_Later when he's sitting in the middle of the football field, a place where he has always felt valued, he blames himself._

_He told himself all his life don't get too close, don't trust in people, he forgot all those lessons he taught himself on how to survive and opened himself up. He won't be doing that again._

_He can almost see the walls rising up around his heart, no one is going to make it past them again, and he will gladly let himself be lonely if it means he never has to feel this agony raging in his heart ever again._

_He doesn't care that he spent most of his life, trying to make people love him, right now he is giving up hope that he will ever be important to another human being._

_Ryan said he had his back. He thought he was his friend._

_He thought he made Louise happy. She told him that._

_Then he heard his father's voice coming back to haunt him, and he shoves away memories of that fateful night he stood in his father's office and learned how unlovable he is._

"_Don't always believe what you are told boy" The statement rings in his ears, deafening him._

_He feels sick now, because the man right, he should have listened harder, he should have remembered them sooner. _

_He curses his own stupidity. He should have known better. He thought he was stronger than that now, he was wrong, he is still worthless, he just forgot that for a while._

_He is paying the price for that now, a tear drops from his eye and he growls in anger at himself. Letting people get close enough to hurt him this much was enough of a weakness for one day. He was not going to cry. He knew what he needed to do._

_He strides with determination, and stops in front of the teams bench. He drops to his knees and takes a deep breath, and then he slams his face onto to the hard surface._

_He recovers quickly and leans back letting the blood fall freely from his face. He shakes his head slightly as his actions sink in, he doesn't regret what he just did._

_After all, a broken nose is easier to fix, than a broken heart._

He hates himself even more for thinking about that day, the day that was up there as one of the worst of his life. The day that reminded him that, his father was rarely wrong.

He remembers all too well, the stinging betrayal he could not ignore. The hopelessness beginning to eat away at him, then the pain from his face made itself known and he felt oddly relieved.

He hadn't pulled a stunt like that in years. It felt good and that scared him a little. It does not scare him now.

He always chose the football field to go to when things were bad. When he was on that field, he was valued and liked, people looked to him to win the game and celebrated when he did. He felt like he belonged.

He can't capture that feeling anymore, it got swallowed up in his despair. Maybe it was lost when his chance of a football career was. It does not matter when it was lost though, all that matters is that it is gone. That he now feels so out of place, so uncomfortable in his own skin.

No one wants him, the only place he belongs is in the ground.

Then it suddenly dawns on him that he still has a gun to his head, that he was once again caught up in his traitorous mind instead of pulling the trigger.

He takes a deep breath and remembers the satisfaction he always got when he hurt himself.

This will be the ultimate relief, he smiles.

It will finally be over.

"Tony, you need to put the gun down"

He is not smiling now.


	12. Choices

His heart stops, his breath catches in his throat at the sight of his senior agent. He was expecting to be met with a sight like this. To be honest, he was expecting one a lot worse.

Still a shiver runs down his spine as he observes the shaky gun aimed right at the temple. He feels a wave of relief that they found him before he did something, until he realises that this situation isn't much better. He hasn't lowered the gun.

"Tony you need to put the gun down," He repeats himself for the third time and he can hear the desperation in his voice. Tony won't even look at him, he has his eyes clenched shut as if he's trying to will the world away, maybe he is.

Suddenly he meets his gaze and he feels tears sting his eyes, at the intense pain he can see boring a hole straight through his heart. He should have done something sooner. He should have let Tony get to this point.

"Why?" It is no more than a whisper but the emotions sound deafening.

Desperation and pain. Sadness, anger and, tragically confusion. He can't understand why his life might be worth something.

He has a chance now, a chance to reach him, a chance to tell him he still has something to live for. He hopes he won't be lying to him. One screw up now and he'll be watching his brains get splattered across the football field. He can't let that happen, he doesn't want to face the repercussions of that choice. He has to save him. He has to make this man understand how loved he is, he has to make him realise that they do not want to lose him.

"Because we don't want you to do this"

It was apparently the wrong thing to say, he watches Tony's eyes darken with anger and his hold on his weapon tightens.

"This isn't about what you want" The words are spat at him, hard as steel and cold as ice.

_shit._

...

_He once again finds himself lying in a hospital bed, trying hard not to squirm under the watchful eyes of his partner, eyes that are narrowed in his direction, eyes that he thinks can now see straight through his bullshit._

"_Wanna tell me what the hell you were thinking?"_

_He can't do that. He's not about to spill his secrets. So he summons up his best fake smile instead. He's done this dance before. It kills him everytime._

"_Don't know what you mean J" He knows as soon as the words leave his mouth that it's not going to work. His partner is not going to let this one go._

"_Cut the crap Tony, take a look at yourself"_

_He doesn't need too, he can feel all the aches making themselves known. He knows from the way his breathing his shallow that he managed to break his ribs this time. He knows the pounding in his head likely means another concussion to add to his collection. He can feel the constriction on his arm, he doesn't need to look down and see the sling protecting his damaged shoulder. He vaguely wonders if he dislocated it, then he realises he doesn't care. _

"_Didn't think you swung that way, then again it is hard to resist the DiNozzo charm" He winks and wonders why he is still trying to fool him, when it is obvious he knows what he just did._

"_Look kid, that little act might have worked on people in the past, hell more often than not it worked on me, but not now okay, I can't help if don't talk to me"_

_He can feel his panic rising, no one was ever meant to find out about his little quirk. He got carless._

"_I don't need any help" _

"_You just threw yourself in front of a car DiNozzo, in my book that means you need help"_

_He flinches at the anger burning in his partner's eyes and the words that make the severity of this situation hit home. He knows he is right, he knows his actions are not normal. He understands the fact that they are not exactly a poster for sanity but, he has been doing this for a long time now, he needs the release it brings. The escape. Better go with denial here._

_He doubts it's going to work._

"_I did what? I didn't look properly, stepped out and got hit, that's all J"_

"_I saw you Tony, I was standing right there on the sidewalk and the thing is I'm not half as surprised as I should be because I've been thinking about the last two years while you were unconscious, all the crazy stunts you pull, your apparent lack of self-preservation, the amount of times I've sat in the ER with you. I thought about the time you got your hand caught in the break room door. Only now, I think you slammed the door shut yourself. I've been thinking about the scrapes and the bruises on your hands, that you told me was a result of forgetting your gloves, but you never forgot did you? It doesn't hurt if you wear the gloves. I used to think you were trying to get some admiration. Now I think you purposely throw yourself into danger, you put yourself into the line of fire on purpose, you're not trying to show off or prove yourself, your trying to get hurt. I guess it's easier if you get hurt on the job, easier to explain away, easier to hide what's really going on here. You did a great job kid, never would have noticed a thing if it weren't for your little stunt this morning"_

_Well what can he say to that, he feels sick and it's nothing to do with the pain meds, or the concussion. He's been figured out. He didn't think this morning, he just reacted, he didn't see his partner out there looking for him, he couldn't see past the blinding pain in his chest, and now he knows his shameful secret. He can't breathe, his chest feels tight, his whole body is racked with tremors, and god he just can't get air._

_His partner is at his side in flash, concern etched into his features._

"_Calm down kid, it's alright" He somehow manages to sound like he actually believes that._

"_It's okay Tony"_

_No it's not he wants to scream, how is any of this okay, he feels his partner running his fingers through his hair, he can hear his soft mutters of reassurance and slowly he begins to gain his control._

"_Sorry" He really is, J shouldn't have to put up with this crap._

"_Hell kid" He can't stand the look in eyes, he looks so sad and he wonders why that is. I mean sure their partners and he wouldn't want anything to happen to him, but the concern is more than that, more personal and he has a feeling he's going to want to know his motives. There is no way in hell he's going to go there._

"_One question Tony, then I'll let you rest" His voice is low, cautious, as if he knows how close he is to unravelling._

"_Were you trying to die?"_

_He laughs but its humourless, suicide, no not him, he is not his mother's son._

"_Car wasn't going fast enough to kill me"_

"_Well that's alright then, as long as it wasn't going fast enough to land you six feet under, that gives you a free pass to jump in front of it" His partner is trying to stay calm, but the anger is sizzling between the two._

_He watches his partner rein his anger in then he sighs. "Okay kid, you get some rest and when you wake up we'll figure this all out okay, I am going to help you Anthony, I've got your back kid" He sounds truthful, but why would he care about a screw up like him, why would anyone waste their time on someone so worthless._

"_Why?" He didn't mean to say it but he did, it comes out as a whisper and he hates how lost he sounds. How broken. How confused._

_It is apparently too much for his partner and he all but sinks to his knees in anguish._

"_You really don't know do you kid? I care about you okay, why you have such a problem believing that I don't know. You are a good person Tony, as much as you pretend your not and I don't want to see you hurt yourself. I don't want you to get to a point where you do want die, I don't want you to feel so desperate one day that you put your gun in your mouth. So I don't care how long it takes or much you'll try to piss me off. I won't give up on you"_

_He can feel himself slipping again, he grips his blanket and tries desperately to calm down, his aching ribs don't allow for a deep breath, and his partner must notice his problem because he's at his side again. Fingers once again find his hair, he feels his hand being grasped tightly and he allows the comfort._

_He allows himself to be lulled into a false sense of security as he closes his eyes and sleeps._

"Because we don't want you to do this"

Gibbs words shock him out of his memory, he blinks as realises he must have voiced the same question he asked his first partner all those years ago, he hasn't thought about J in a long time, or how guilty he felt for packing up and leaving Peoria not long after that day.

Then the words register and he feels so angry he thinks he might implode, it's white hot in his veins, blinding him, consuming him, because this is not about them. He says as much.

This is about him. This is his life. If he wants to throw it away then shouldn't that be his choice?

He looks at the faces of the people he once trusted and he does not feel a thing. No guilt for hurting them. He feels no remorse for putting them through this.

The angers gone now, it never stays, always to be replaced by sadness. He wishes he could hold on to his rage, because once it's gone it hurts likes hell. He wants the anger back.

He is so tired now, he allows his arm drop bringing the gun with it, and he almost wants to point it at them. He wants them to leave.

Gibbs reaches out to take it and he growls and begins to raise it once more. He quickly backs up, arms raised to show he poses no threat, but he does pose a threat, he has the power to change his mind.

This morning he was so sure he didn't want to see tomorrow, he was at peace with the fact that his life would be over, but he hesitated. He was caught up in memories he locked away years ago, memories that will no longer be ignored and now they've forced their way in. He used to think he wanted their help but now he knows better.

If he really wanted someone to save him he would have stayed in Peoria, he would have accepted J's help back when it still could have made a difference. Now he knows he never wanted that, he didn't want them to pick up the pieces, he just wanted them to notice. Now he wishes they hadn't.

If he goes through with it now they will be forced to watch, they will all have to live with the image of watching him put a bullet in his head, he wonders if he cares.

He decides he doesn't.

**A/N Still not certain whether this will be happy or not yet, but I will warn you.**


	13. Hurt

His eyes hurt from crying.

His heart hurts from the truth.

His hand hurts from holding the gun so tightly

His head hurts from the memories attacking him.

All of him hurts.

Gibbs is staring at him, his eyes never once leaving his face. Seemingly ignoring the weapon, he was holding to his head moments ago.

He tries to tell himself that it does not matter that Gibbs is kneeling in front of him, looking as desperate as he feels. He tries to tell himself that he hates this man.

He numbly registers McGee and Ziva standing behind him, their expressions of horror perfectly matched. He would laugh, if he still had the ability too. He wonders if he should say something, but all he wants to do is scream.

"Oh tony, what happened"

Everything happened. Life happened. It chewed him up and spat him out, then kicked him around for the hell of it. There was no defining moment, nothing he can look back on and say that that's when it broke, that's when it started to slide. This is the result of years of heartbreak, years of being let down and left out, years of being hurt by the people supposed to love him. This is the result of years of closing his eyes and making excuses, blocking out who he saw in the mirror. But he understands now. You cannot escape yourself. Eventually, however strong the mask is, it is destined to break.

He wants to tell them all this, but the words won't come out. So all he says is "My mask broke boss and I can't fix it"

"You don't have to fix it, you don't to hide Tony, not from us"

Maybe he is right, but it's not like he has a choice in the matter anymore. His weakness is so blatantly on display, they can all see how worthless he is now. He wonders if they could see it all along. After all, they are ones that saw him drowning and didn't help him swim.

"You never saw behind it"

"Well your pretty good undercover DiNozzo, tell me what we missed okay"

His voice is so soft he almost forgets that it's Gibbs talking to him. He is good undercover, he should be, he has been undercover since he was five years old.

_He is sneaking through the house, desperately hoping he can make it too his room before anyone notices what he has done to his hated sailors outfit. It's not like he really meant to get so filthy. These things just always seem to happen to him._

"_Anthony" He instantly freezes as his father's cold voice reaches his ears. He should have known he wouldn't make it. He never quite manages to be quiet. His mother says he is her little noise maker, she always laughs when she says it. His father doesn't find it funny._

"_Go and wait for me in my office, stand still and do not touch anything"_

"_Yes sir"_

_A shiver of dread runs downs his back. He is really starting to hate his father's office, he wonders if all kids get roaring butterflies in their stomach when they have to be in a room alone with one of their parents. He positions himself right in the centre, and tries hard not to fidget. .He hates standing still, he always has so much energy, making him itch to move. He settles with just moving his eyes as his gaze wanders around the room he wishes he could leave. His face drains of colour when his eyes lock onto the object lying innocently on the desk._

_He feels sick as he remembers the now faint red lines littering the back of his legs. He can still feel the cold sting as the ruler made harsh contact with his skin._

_He father is suddenly striding into the room and he unconsciously shrinks into himself._

_He stands directly in front of him, easily towering over his small five year old frame. He watches as he flickers his gaze up and down him, taking in his dirty clothes, he can see the disapproval that was always present in his father eyes when he looked at him._

"_Did your mother dress you like that this morning?"_

_He was expecting a lecture, not a question._

"_Yes sir, she did" She always dressed him in sailor suits._

"_And I suppose she splattered you with mud as well"_

_Here it comes._

"_No sir"_

"_But surely you must know better by now Anthony, unless you mean to tell me that you do not listen to the rules I set for you"_

_He does listen, it's just at times he gets carried away._

"_I..er..sir I..I"_

"_Stop stuttering at me boy, you sound pathetic"_

"_Sorry sir"_

"_Do not mutter Anthony, my goodness are you so stupid you cannot even learn how to speak properly"_

_He can never seem to get this right, he never knows what to do that could possibly please this man._

"_Are you going to explain yourself, or just stand there like an idiot?"_

_He takes a deep breath and tries to prepare himself for what will happen, when his father realises how many rules he just broke._

"_I went down to the field father, I know I'm not supposed to, but some of the other boys go there and I didn't want to play on my own anymore. They were taking it in turns to climb a tree and I joined in with them. But I wasn't very good at climbing and I fell out, that's how the mud got on me"_

_He could sense his father's anger rising every time a word left his mouth._

"_No you're not good at much" He chuckles quietly and then asks. "Are you hurt?"_

_Hope well up inside of him, could he actually be concerned about him?_

"_No sir"_

"_Pity"_

_Oh._

"_You are not to continue playing with these boys, I will not allow" "But dad"_

_He flinches before the blows strikes him, it scares him that he knew it was coming, as he realised he has two more rules to add to list of one's he's broken today._

_Do not interrupt._

_Do not address him as anything other than father or sir._

_His father growls and he knows that he that soon he will be hurt. The fall may not have done him any damage but his father sure will._

"_Listen to me now boy, you may carry the DiNozzo name, but you do not possess any of the necessary qualities to make you one. I have no doubt you will one day end up in a gutter somewhere, you are not strong, you are not smart, but while you are living under this roof you will damn well pretend to be. I will not allow you to show me up by displaying what a bitter disappointment you are. You will not stutter and you most certainly may not climb trees. You will pretend to be worthy of the name I have given you. Do you understand?"_

_The word no is on the tip of his tongue, tears are filling his eyes, his body is shaking and he wants nothing more than to run away and hide forever._

"_Yes sir, I'll try to be better"_

"_You better do more than just try. Now strip to waist and lie on the floor._

_Oh god. He doesn't want to, but he has to be better, he has to be a brave boy like his mother told him, then maybe his father won't have to do this to anymore because he learnt how to be good, so he obeys his father's demand._

_Later as he lies on his stomach, trying to ignore the white-hot agony searing on his back, he tries to block out the continuous blows still being delivered and tries to make sense of what his father wants from him._

_He thinks he gets it. His father wants him to be like those people in the movies that pretend to be someone else._

_He could do that couldn't he?_

_He can show his father that he can speak right, he can worker harder at school._

_He can act strong, he thought he already was, after all he hardly cries out at the pain anymore. He now knows he was wrong._

_He's not too clear on the being worthy of his name thing but he can do his best. He can do whatever he asks of him._

_He doesn't want to be a disappointment anymore._

_Time to pretend he isn't._

_..._

Tony isn't talking, he has a faraway look in his eyes and he wonders what hell, he is remembering.

Gibbs isn't talking either, he's just staring at Tony as if he can somehow read all the answers straight from his mind.

Ziva is staring at the gun Tony still hasn't let go of and there's no way he's about to play counsellor, not considering how well that worked earlier. He wonders how long they can all stay like this, he wonders how long it will take Tony to realise that they don't have a clue how to help him.

He is almost glad for the silence, he didn't like the talk of masks and undercover work. He still can't quite handle the fact that Tony has been lying to them all this time.

He wonders if lying is the right word and decides that hiding would be more appropriate. Tony was hiding. They should have looked. But Gibbs was right, Tony was good, too good. He always seemed to be happy. If someone told him a few months ago, that he would find himself facing a suicidal DiNozzo, he would have laughed in his or her face. Then referred them to a shrink.

'Sometimes the happiest people you meet, are the saddest people you will ever know'

The thought comes out of nowhere, and he has no idea who told him that, did he read it somewhere? He remembers he always found it intriguing.

He never imagined how true it would turn out to be.

...

She does not like this. Gibbs should have taken the gun. He should have wrestled it from his grip. He should not be allowing Tony to keep it grasped in his hand, in one swift movement he can complete his task.

She cannot take the silence any longer.

"What did we not see, what was behind it Tony"

His head snaps so quickly to look at her, she fears he may break his neck. He probably would not mind.

His gaze penetrates every defence she has ever had. To her surprise, he begins to speak openly, his voice his low and strangely blank. It is as if all emotion has drained out of him, as if he has nothing left to feel.

"I was. I was behind it all this time. Behind all those grins and all that laughter and those stupid jokes. Behind all that strength and courage. There was the pain. So much pain and hurt. There was paralyzing fear, and misplaced anger. You want to know what was behind the mask Ziva. Just a little boy lost in a world he never understood. And He's vulnerable and lonely and so confused. All he ever needed was someone to tell him that there was nothing wrong with him, that he deserved love and happiness, but no one did. So he carried on thinking he was worthless, no he carried on _believing_ he was worthless. Behind the damn mask was the me you never wanted to know, the me no one ever wanted"

Well what can she say to that?

She wants the silence back.

...

As soon as the words leave his mouth, he wants to take them back.

He is beginning to realise things now, things he doesn't want to admit. The blame he placed on their shoulders, now rests firmly at his feet. He's the one locked that little boy away.

He never really gave them a chance did he? He lived his life being something he wasn't, a skill he only got better at as time went on. He created the mask. He is the one that hid behind it so well.

He started out as the perfect son, then the jock, the frat boy. The cocky detective, and the very special agent.

Is it really any wonder they were caught up in his smoke and mirrors?

Can he really be angry with them for not seeing the truth? Can he still blame them?

Yes, he can, he decides, he's tired of blaming himself. He cracked under the weight of it all, it is only fair that they should carry some.

Then again, when has life ever been fair?

He can't think straight anymore, maybe he never could. His thoughts are confusing him. He has no idea what he wants from these people, what he feels towards them.

He just wants everything to stop swirling around him.

He doesn't think he can make a coherent decision at this point, but he knows without a doubt that he does not trust these people. But he doesn't trust himself either so where does that leave him?

He doesn't know the answer to that, but he knows that wherever he ends up, as long as he's breathing. It will still hurt.

Gibbs must sense that he's losing him to depths of his broken mind, because he's suddenly leaning so close he can feel his breath tickling his face.

"Tony, take a deep breath, you need to slow your breathing down"

It is only as he hears the words that he notices he is hyperventilating. How the hell did he miss that?

Black spots dance across his vision as he fights to regain control. His vision clears and he is startled at the close proximity his boss has managed to obtain.

"That's it Tony, now I want you to listen to me okay, focus on my voice, my words. Can you do that?"

He stares straight into his eyes and is over whelmed by the emotion shining in them.

He tried to tell himself that it didn't matter that he was here, but it tried to tell himself that he hates this man, but he doesn't.

He still has the gun, he is still in control of this. Would it be so hard to listen?

He can easily read the anguish in the older man's eyes. It is not about giving Gibbs a chance to feel less guilty. It is not about letting him feel better because he tried.

He wants to hear these words, whether or not they make a difference doesn't matter. He owes himself this chance.

"I can do that."

**A/N. Sorry for the delay, I had a minor accident and managed to land myself in the hospital for a few days, will try and get the next chapter up ASAP.**


	14. Beginnings

He almost sighs in relief at Tony's words, until he realises that this moment is the ultimate make or break. His words could hold the power to save this trembling man in front of him, or they could shove him firmly off the edge. He is already barely hanging on.

It won't take much to lose him.

It's time to tell Tony all the things he has always wanted to know, the things he should have told him years ago, the things that Tony probably won't believe.

Not now.

Not after he's waited for so long.

He has never been one to discuss his feelings, but it's time to put all reservations aside, time to throw his pride out the window, because if he has too he will goddamn beg.

He will do anything to get him to put down the gun.

"McGee, Ziva, go back to the car" he stops their protests before they even have a chance to voice them, "Tony doesn't need an audience" they all hear the unspoken second half to that statement, 'you don't need to see this if it ends badly'.

They slowly begin to walk away and he realises that Tony is staring after them.

"Appreciate that"

The words are so soft he almost misses them, he takes a deep breath and tries to prepare himself for what is easily one of the hardest moments of his life.

"Look Tony, first of all I'm sorry, I should have been there for you and it kills me that I wasn't"

"Thought that was a sign weakness" The words are still far too soft, a mere whisper he has to strain to hear.

"Not between friends Tony. Not between friends"

Tony clenches his eyes shut at the words, the anguish evident in the tenseness of body, but he keeps going.

"That's what we are okay, I admit I haven't been a great one, but you are so much more to me than just another agent, so much more than a colleague, Tony I care a lot about you, if you do this, I can't even imagine how I'd cope without you in my life, I love you like a son DiNozzo, I always have"

There is no reaction at all, his words made no impact. He will keep going until something gets through to him, if he has to sit here and talk for a week then he will gladly do it.

He will put all his strength into this, because he didn't lie to him, he loves him like a father loves their child and he is not ready to bury another one.

...

He swears his heart stops beating at Gibbs words, the ones he's longed to hear for so many years, the ones he so desperately wants to believe.

Can he believe him though?

Can he really mean that much to someone?

No he can't. He is lying to him, he has to be.

"I know you don't think you mean that much to me, but I promise you, that you do."

"Why?"

He has to know, he has to hear the reasons. He needs to see if there is any truth in his words. He hopes there is.

"Because you are a damn good person Tony and I know you don't see it, but you are. You make me laugh you know, make it easier to get through a bad day, you have courage and integrity, amazing strength. That wasn't just your mask Tony, it's who you are. You are kind and fiercely loyal and the entire team would be lost without you, Anthony, you are undoubtedly the most amazing man that I know. I certainly can't think of anyone else with the power to make me sound like a damn hallmark card"

He isn't lying, he cannot deny the sincerity in his voice. He means every word he says. He doesn't know what to do with that. Someone finally cares and he doesn't know what to do.

There's a tragedy in that fact, but he doesn't want to find it just yet.

It wasn't supposed to happen like this, he was supposed to do this alone, like he's done everything else. Gibbs shouldn't be here telling him all these things he can't bear to hear.

Every word of this hurts. Mainly because, it is said too late.

He is shaking again, maybe he never stopped and he's trying hard not to cry again.

"Let it out Tony, I'm here if you need to fall apart"

Falling apart? Already taken care of, he can't fall any further than this.

He shattered into pieces long before this day, and he knows from experience that once you lose a piece of yourself, it is almost impossible to get it back.

He doesn't think he has any pieces left.

...

He felt like the frustration would consume him.

He just wasn't responding to him, maybe he should have listened to that tiny voice in the back of his mind, telling him that Tony is already gone. There is no one to save.

He knows the guilt will never leave him and it shouldn't. He never wants to forget how much he failed. He thinks back to all the times over the years that he could have reached out to him, all the moments he could have made Tony see that he cared. He thinks of all the apologises he didn't make, now he is losing him, and it's entirely his fault.

Too often we don't realize what we have until it's gone.

Too often we are too stubborn to say I'm sorry, I was wrong.

Too often it seems we hurt the ones closest to our hearts.

"Sick of crying Boss, it's all I've been doing today"

"It's a sad day"

"Sad life really, don't you think?"

He has never heard anybody sound so tired, he reminds himself to tread carefully.

"That what this is all about Tony, you throwing your life away because you're sad?"

"We both know it's not that simple, we both know this can't be fixed"

He sounded so certain, so devoid of hope. Time to give him some.

"Look, I know you're hurting, I can't begin to imagine how much pain you're in right now, but if you stick around DiNozzo, one day, things might feel alright again"

The scowl on his face told him how much he believed that.

...

He wants to hit him. How can anything be alright again?

How can he ever be okay?

Why does he still not understand?

He doesn't need false assurances thrown at him.

He's had enough of them, they don't mean a thing. It suddenly registers that Gibbs can't actually read minds. For this to work, he has to start talking.

Gibbs beats him to it.

"Okay you don't believe a word I'm saying, and it's killing me to see you like this, you got the weapon Tony, you can end this. I hate seeing you so hurt okay, no one should ever have to feel so much pain, and if you really think that suicide is your only way out, then I'll have to live with that. You're my son and I love you. I love you enough to let you do this, because you've already suffered enough for one lifetime"

Hang on a minute, Gibbs his going to _let him._

"You'd just stand there and watch me do this?"

He can't cover the hurt in voice, maybe he was lying after all.

"I would, I told you it's because I love you. Now if you asked if I wanted you to do this, then I'd shout no until I was blue in the face, I don't want to lose you Tony I want you to give me a chance"

What the hell. He doesn't think he's ever been so confused in his life.

"A chance to what" He's not sure he actually wants to know.

"To make you see things can get better"

The anger is rising in him. He does not want that. He has to tell him that.

"I don't want you to tell me it's going to get better, I don't want you to lie to me. I want you to tell me that if I never make it back from this, you'll sit with me at the bottom. I want you to tell me that you won't leave me alone"

He needs that, because he knows he won't be making it back from this.

He will never again be whole.

...

He understands now. Finally.

Tony doesn't want to be fixed, he doesn't want to be saved.

He doesn't want someone to put the pieces back together.

He just wants to be accepted and loved for what he is.

Broken.

He needs to shown that it is okay, to be this way.

The relief he feels that he hasn't yet pulled the trigger is intoxicating. He doesn't know what on earth possessed him to tell him he can do it. It is the only way to stop the pain though, he knows that.

Just like he knows Tony won't be anything like he was after this. Maybe that's a good thing, he can slowly start to face the things he has buried for so long.

He will be beside him every step of the way.

...

He thinks he's going to go crazy, sitting here in the car, no clue what is happening. He can tell Ziva feels the same as he does, he knows that she, like him, is waiting for the ominous sound of a gunshot to break their hearts.

Nothing would be the same without Tony, he doesn't think he can bear to stand at his funeral, knowing they could have stopped it.

He is quite thankful Gibbs sent them away, not that he would admit that. He was terrified standing there wondering if he would be made to watch Tony's death. It was killing him to see him so broken, knowing he couldn't reach him.

He doesn't really think Gibbs can either, but that's another thing he isn't admitting to.

...

She cannot bear McGee's constant fidgeting, but she allows it for she is sure, he is just as scared as she is.

She has never felt fear like this before, losing people was a given in a job like theirs, and she knows any one of them could lose their life at any moment.

That is a different fear, she can accept that kind of loss, she cannot accept this.

She feels a certain amount of anger towards Tony, for forcing them to endure such horror, then she wonders how much anger he feels towards them for pushing him to his breaking point.

She is angry at Gibbs also, for sending them away. They were a team, they should be facing this together.

They all let him down.

They should all be there for him now.

...

They are just staring at each other now, and he finally sees understanding in Gibbs eyes.

He came here to kill himself.

He came here to put this life behind him.

Now he is sitting with a man, who, a few months he trusted with his life.

He thinks he still trusts him, he thinks he has to now, he has no faith in anything else.

"I'll be with you every step of the way Tony, I will never leave you alone again"

He believes him now, he really does. This man will support him and care for him. He always wanted that. He still wants it now, but at what price?

Allowing him to be there, means he has to be alive. Being alive, means hurting and that is the very thing he wants to escape. This is it he realises, the ultimate decision time, the make or break.

His breath is coming in short gasps, his emotions are so strong, so powerful and they are drowning him, he knows what he has to do now.

His hold on the gun tightens, and he raises it towards his head.

...

He can only watch in horror as Tony raises the gun and he can't help but close his eyes as he sees him stare down the barrel.

There no sound and he opens, his eyes to see him lying on the ground, blood pouring from his head. A wave of despair crashes over him, until he realises he didn't hear a gunshot.

He pulls him into his arms and sees that he slammed the gun into his head, he didn't pull the trigger, he holds onto to that thought.

He did not pull the trigger.

He ignores the blood mixing with tears as his agent begins to sob in his arms, it is a sound he knows he will never forget. It will echo in his ears for years to come.

"It's not going to be easy. Is it Boss?"

No its not. This day marks the beginning of a hard and painful road for this man, for his son. It is a road he can only hope that Tony will one day be glad he took.

"They say nothing worth it ever is"

He didn't think his heart could break anymore, but the next words Tony speaks completely shatters it.

"And do you think I will be, worth it, in the end?"

He tightens his hold on him, he doesn't think he will ever be able to let go of this man ever again.

"Aw hell Tony, you already are"

**A/N. One more chapter I think.**


	15. Different

Things are different now, he knew they would be, but sometimes it hits him out of nowhere, how different he is.

He rarely talks, he doesn't eat, and he can't sleep.

Right now it seems that the only thing Tony is capable of doing, is breathing.

He thinks he even struggles with that.

...

It's been a month now, which shocks him because it doesn't seem like it's been that long. But it has.

One month, since he tried to kill himself.

One month that he's been living with his boss.

One month, that he's been breathing, when he doesn't want to be.

He barely functions anymore, in a way it's like he did pull that trigger.

He certainly doesn't feel alive.

He feels numb. He feels cold.

He 's practically turned into a mute, he can't even remember what sleep is, and just thinking about eating makes him feel queasy. He doesn't remember how to smile or laugh, even the tears have dried up now.

So maybe he's not broken anymore.

Maybe now he's just empty, just a shell of Anthony DiNozzo.

A man that he has forgotten how to be.

He wonders if he'll ever remember.

He wonders if he wants to.

...

"You gonna get up, today, DiNozzo"

He sighs at the usual lack of response and tries to resist the urge to shake some life into him. He feels like he is in one of Tony's movies. Something that involves zombies.

"You could help me with the boat" "Or we could watch a movie"

The only reaction from the man, is him burying himself further into his pillow.

"Suit yourself"

He won't be sleeping all day, he wishes he were. That would be a lot less frightening, than seeing him lying there, staring at nothing with haunted eyes for hours on end.

In those moments, when he watches from the doorway, he can't help but think, even though Tony didn't die, he still lost him.

He makes his way to the basement and begins to work on the boat, keeping one eye out for DiNozzo. He knows he won't follow. The old Tony would have jumped at the chance, the old Tony would have loved to watch a movie with his boss. Then he reminds himself that the old Tony wasn't the real one.

That hurts more than it should.

The new Tony, or he supposes he should say, the real Tony, doesn't care about things like that. He doesn't care about anything and he has no idea what to do with that.

He hears the stairs creak and drops his sandpaper in surprise as Tony slowly makes his way down to the bottom.

He sinks onto the floor and offers him two simple words. "Hey boss"

His voice sounded strained, as if it took him enormous effort to say an ordinary greeting. Maybe it did.

"Hey Tony"

He doesn't offer anything else, just rests his head on his knees and settles himself to just watch. He turns back to the boat, deciding to just let him be.

He came down the stairs, he sought him out.

He doesn't want to talk, but that's ok. It only matters that he's here. It only matters that he's chosen to sit in silence with him and not alone.

It's not much.

But it's a damn good start.

...

Two months in and he can feel again. It aches and burns and he shakes with the forcefulness of it. It is white-hot in his veins, it makes his heart race and his hands itch to hit something, anything, just to make it stop.

He decides he wants the numbness back.

He can't ignore the urge as he sends his fist forward, shattering the mirror he can't bear to look at, he drops to his knees and just cries. There's nothing else left to do.

Suddenly he's screaming himself hoarse, rocking on the bathroom floor.

This must be what madness feels like. He should have ended this two months ago.

He could have made this stop.

He didn't hear the door open, or Gibbs footsteps striding towards him, but he feels his body being wrenched of the ground and into his lap, he feels arms, holding him, anchoring him and he can't help but cling on to the man.

He has nothing left, his walls are all broken down, he can do nothing but cry in his bosses arms and hope that he can grasp his last shred of sanity before it slips through his fingers.

He can only hope, that Gibbs has enough strength to hold him together, because his is all used up.

...

He is staring at the simple rise and fall of his agent's chest, the movement seemingly peaceful. His face is anything but.

He focuses on this image as he desperately tries to erase the one he found earlier. As soon as he entered the bathroom, he stopped breathing as he took in the sight of the shattered mirror and blood splattered floor. He tries to hear the even breathing over the piercing screams still ringing in his ears.

He knew this was going to happen, he's been slowly cracking this past month. Emotions, beginning to seep through the fog of unfeeling emptiness. The intensity shocked him and a few tears of his own managed to escape as he held onto the distraught man.

He doesn't know how long they stayed there, or how long it took him to pass out from sheer exhaustion but he knows it won't be the last time they do this.

He glances at his hands and realises he didn't wash away the blood, it can wait, he couldn't leave his side even if he wanted too. He inspects the white bandage wrapped around Tony's hand, blood already beginning to soak through. Out of all the things he's learnt about Tony lately, that is the thing that scares him the most.

_He guides him to the couch, leaving him there while he goes to get some supplies. He returns with a cloth and first aid kit and begins to gently clean the blood from his face._

_He starts to clean the cut and Tony doesn't even flinch even though it has to hurt. He's barely reacted to anything and he wonders if he gave himself a concussion, he shudders at the thought._

_He looks dazed, he must be in shock. He's not the only one._

_The cut is deep, he must have hit himself with a lot of force, he tries to keep his voice as casual as possible when he asks "You done this before Tony?"_

_It takes him a moment to come out of himself and another for the question to fully register._

"_Held a gun to my head on a football field, don't make a habit of it"_

_There is almost a spark of DiNozzos humour, but the words are too flat, too cold._

"_You know what I'm asking Tony" he works hard to keep the impatience out of his voice. This question needs answering._

"_Yeah, I've done it before boss"_

_He instinctively looks at his wrists, even though he knows they have no scars on them. Tony notices his gaze and shakes his head, wincing at the movement._

"_Not like that, never like that"_

"_Then what? What did you do, to hurt yourself" He hates saying those words, hates acknowledging the fact that a man he supposedly knew, would take such drastic measures._

"_The usual stuff, hit a few walls, started a few fights, sent myself on a couple of trips down the stairs..."_

_He trails off, realising what he just revealed._

"_Usual stuff" He sees him wince and knows that he heard the incredulous tone to his voice._

_He grasps Tony's face in his hands, ignoring the weak attempt to pull away._

"_Why?"_

"_It's easier to deal with, it's simple ya know. Focus on that kind of pain instead of the other"_

_He was expecting an answer like that, but it doesn't make it easier to hear._

"_You don't do that here tony, you feel over whelmed, like it's too much, you come to me. I don't want you to hurt yourself. I don't want you to be in anymore pain ok. Come to me."_

_He lets go of his face, ignoring the look of shock and continues his task of cleaning up his agent._

_Wiping the blood away is easy, cleaning up rest, well that's going to be pretty damn hard._

He tried not to think of when he could have done those things. Didn't want to be told it was after something he did, or said, or more likely didn't say. It's not important now, he wasn't there those times, but he is now.

He is there when he begins to murmur softly, and his eyelids begin to flutter.

He is there when his body starts to toss and turn, and his hands clench into fists.

He is there when the screams pierce the room as he becomes fully entrapped in his remembered hell.

He is there when his green eyes snap open, wide with fear and he huddles in the corner like a frightened child.

He is there to speak softly and coax him back towards reality.

He was never there before but he is now, and as he begins to relax safe in his embrace once again, he thinks that it might just be enough.


	16. Peace

He almost felt normal today, for one shining moment he felt like he could breathe.

It wasn't a spectacular moment. There were no heartfelt words, no tears and no comfort. Just two people, sitting in silence, watching whatever movie he was forced to pick out. And he suddenly felt lighter, he felt less alone.

It was a nice feeling.

He could almost feel peace settling over him, not completely, but almost.

That's closer than he's been for years.

He is at peace with some things though. He's at peace with the fact his life is now a series of bad days and worse ones.

He's at peace that some days will be long and hard, while others fly past in such an incredible blur it makes his head spin.

He's at peace about the up and down aspect of his new reality, how one day he might feel burning anger and scream and shout and curse the world and all that its put him through. How the next he can't do anything but stare at nothing, lost in his thoughts, overcome by sadness with silent tears trickling down his cheeks.

That's his life now. He's fine with that.

He is not at peace with himself.

Maybe that was the problem all along.

Maybe that's why the overall feeling of peace eludes him, because he can't bear to meet his own reflection without wanting to destroy the image.

That's when he thinks he's just up to his old tricks. That he isn't at peace with anything at all.

That he's just pretending to be.

So when they smile tentatively at him and when they ask if he's okay. He'll nod and smile, he'll say all the right things in all the right places, and they'll be as clueless as they always were.

Everything is fine.

Couldn't hurt more.

...

Tony tells them he is getting better every day, and in a way he is.

Every day he gets better at lying, every day he finds it easier to hide. He is slowly rebuilding his walls, creating a brand new mask to show the world.

But he sees the things that they don't.

He sees the tired eyes, trying in vain to hide the tattered soul underneath.

He sees him screaming, crying in his sleep, pleading with the demons to _leave him alone._

He sees the pain that taints every moment he forces himself to live though, he sees him continue to fall.

They say it's not the fall that will kill you, it's the sudden stop.

The sad thing is he knows that Tony cannot wait to hit the ground.

...

Pain.

It's a part life, inevitable, unavoidable, no matter how great someone's life is everybody feels it.

Whether it's the pain of grazed knees or a broken heart. The pain of losing someone you love, or more tragic, the pain of never having them in the first place.

Some people even say pain is necessary, that it helps us grow, helps us to appreciate its absence that little bit more.

Some people share it with the world and some hide it

He doesn't hide his anymore, his life is no better for that fact. He feels no relief at having his weakness displayed for all to see. He doesn't like spending his days staring at walls, over-whelmed by the sadness he can no longer block out.

This is his life now, a life filled with pain, that won't change, he understands that now.

He is at peace with it.

He is still alive and has to do something with that, he has to build something out of what he has left.

It isn't much, but that doesn't matter. He's not alone in this now.

He found in one man the very thing he has always wanted.

A family, and that is enough to make him fight.

The pain won't ever go anywhere, it will always hurt.

It isn't going to fade. He is never going to be magically okay again.

He will look back at the things that caused the pain and still get that awful feeling in the pit of his stomach.

No matter how long it's been.

He joins Gibbs in the basement, they don't say anything but they don't need to. It is enough to be in each other's company. It is enough to know that he is there.

He is under no illusions that this is fixed, he knows that it is very likely that he will find himself at the bottom again.

But for now, he is going to savour every moment of his climb back up.

He will still have nightmares, he will still cry and be haunted by his memories.

He will still feel the crushing pain, burning through him, he remembers that Gibbs never fixed the bathroom mirror and he sees that as a sort of understanding from the man. He didn't fix the mirror because he knows he can't fix him. He can't make it better

The pain stays with you, no matter what you do it can't be erased.

But you do learn to with it, it simply becomes a part of you.

You learn to live in spite of it.

That is the true beauty of strength.

**A/N This was originally meant to be a onsehot, but I forgoy to mark it complete!**

**Thank you to everyone that read this story, i hope you all enjoyed it**

**.x.x.x.**


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